In All His Quidditch Glory
by OrderofRice
Summary: Slash. DracoOliver Try something new! Set in Harry's 7th year, Oliver is appointed to coach an across-Hogwarts Quidditch team for an Inter-school championship.
1. Chapter 1

**_*~*~*~*_**

**Title: **In All His Quidditch Glory****   
**Author: **Rice (OrderofRice here, IDroppedARice on FA)   
**Pairing: **Eventual Oliver/Draco   
**Summary: **Oliver Wood, after suffering an unfixable injury that ends his International Quidditch career, returns to Hogwarts to help out in Dumbledore's plan - an inter-school Quidditch Championship. While carrying out his task of coaching an across-Hogwarts team and facing his demons, what's better help than a little romance? Set in Harry's seventh year. Slash.   
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.   
**Notes: **Many thanks to my Beta Gin for convincing me to continue this story, oh so long ago! You can find her fanfiction.net profile under **Adele**. Thank you to everyone reading and enjoying. 

***~*~*~***

**__**

**_In All His Quidditch Glory_**

******_Chapter: 1_**

******_ Rice_**  
  
  


A sharp swerve to the right brought Oliver out of immediate harm from a bludger with a vendetta. A bead of sweat rolled from the beginning of his hairline into his eyes causing him to blink momentarily, missing the action for an instant. He scanned all aspects of the field, keeping a constant vigil on the status of the Quaffle as he noticed any openings left by both teams. His captaining instincts had not yet worn off and he swallowed the urge to tell a player to position herself were he saw fit.  
  
The aroma of the intense game filled the stadium. They had been playing for eight hours and the immense atmosphere was overwhelming _ sweating players, leather padding chafing his prickling skin, the sound of a twenty-thousand-strong crowd and the feel of the air thrust past him as players conducted the most beautiful and complicated moves he had ever seen with such experienced simplicity. Oliver felt the happiest moment of his life and closed his eyes softly for a split second, savoring this moment of international stardom.

* * *

Oliver opened his eyes and remembered his train left in half an hour. He scrambled out of bed only to realise there was someone else in there with him. He cursed as he remembered the farewell party his former teammates had given him as he was leaving London. His memory of the night began to get blurred around the time he remembered the fourth round of drinks being ordered. 

He looked at the face of the person sharing his bed and was relieved by the sight of an ex-teammate. At least now he could leave without the fear of having anything of his stolen. Hurriedly getting ready, he wrote a note and was just about to leave before he heard a voice call from his bedroom. He walked back and stood in the doorway.

"Leaving?" Last night's lover was propped up on one elbow looking decidedly melancholy.

"My train leaves in about ten minutes," Oliver said, shuffling his feet and looking over his shoulder at his already packed bags lying so close to the door. He was never good at this 'morning after' stuff.

"You know you could floo there. Later on today..." 

Oliver didn't know what to say. He hadn't expected someone to be here when he left. He just wanted to pack up and go, no last minute goodbyes, no reason to feel like he was attached to someone. Besides, he needed his time on the train to collect his thoughts. Going back wasn't altogether easy for him. He though it was all over when he left those years ago. He'd moved on in his life, to something better. The initial idea of returning had repulsed him and then saddened him, he really thought his life would be different. The sudden chiming of the clock brought him out of his thoughts and he turned back to the scantily covered body on the bed.

"Lock the door behind you when you leave?" Was all he said and only felt a slight pang of guilt as he quietly picked up his bags and left the apartment. 

* * *

His burgundy red robes flowed, billowing about his heels as he strode through the intricately carved double doors of the Great Hall. Oliver Wood had not looked upon this enchanted room for four years, since his graduation within its walls. Students seated at their house tables turned to stare and whisper at the sight of this internationally recognised young man. The first, second and third year students had only read about him in the papers. Him being swept up by a Quidditch scout at the end of his seventh year, his rapid climb in the international Quidditch arena and his sudden downfall that left his dreams ruined.  
  
Oliver made his way to the teacher's table, trying hard to ignore the gaping eyes and mouths of the students. With a curt nod of greeting towards Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore, he sat and gazed anywhere but at the students, struggling to keep hidden his agitation at all the sudden attention. It was the one thing he had never gotten used to while off the Quidditch field. Thousands of eyes had stared at him during his games but that was nothing; he was in the air doing what he loved best, what he lived for, and a few eyes couldn't cloud that. Off the field he didn't understand the reason for his popularity, especially amongst his female fans. Fame wasn't what he had asked for.  
  
Dumbledore rose to give his traditional beginning of year speech and Oliver, instinctively tuning out, thought back to his early years at Hogwarts, his nervousness as a first year and his feelings of loneliness as he had not known a single student. This however, hadn't lasted for very long as his Quidditch skills were discovered in their first lesson with Madam Hooch. Though, as there were no positions open, he could not be placed as a permanent on the Gryffindor team till his third year. His slim but agile body had made him perfect for Chaser until, of course, his true defensive skills came to light and could not be ignored. He was made captain in his fifth year after their old captain had graduated. He had learnt a lot from that boy, more than just Quidditch. Now after all this time, he could barely remember his name. Oliver started at the sound of his own name and realised Dumbledore was still speaking to the mass of students.  
  
" & will be spending a few months here at Hogwarts. I assume you all know the reasons for Mr. Wood's discontinuation of playing Quidditch at international level. However, I, along with the headmistresses and masters of other witchcraft and wizarding schools around the globe, have devised an inter-school Quidditch championship. Mr. Wood will be in charge of selecting and training a Quidditch team to represent Hogwarts in the championship."  
  
At this an excited murmur ran through the seated students. The prospect of being on a unified Hogwarts team to represent the school was too much for some to handle silently. Dumbledore began to tap softly on his glass to bring the noise level down and continued.  
  
"Any student is able to tryout for the team and try out times will be posted in each common room."  
  
Not much else of Dumbledore's speech was heard as the students stayed quiet but let their minds wander.  
  
As dinner was served, the teachers began talking about their doings over the summer break. Oliver had never had such insight into the lives of people he never even considered human, let alone with lives of their own.  
  
"So Oliver," began Madam Hooch, turning to him. "Looking forward to being back on your old field?"  
  
"Well, it'll be a change from what I've gotten used to but it will be nice looking for new talent," Oliver replied, noncommittally.  
  
"I've a few students you may want to take a close look at _ some have real potential. Anyway, you'll have time later to decide all that. Tell me about your life. Last thing I read you were dating the girl from that horrible teen band, what was it called? Acroama? Some unimaginative thing such as that," she continued ardently.  
  
"No, no. I'm not with anyone right now, nor have I heard that particular story before. My last break up has put me off dating for a while," Oliver said tersely, yet so adorably due to his strong accent. He raised a glass of pumpkin juice to his lips.  
  
"Oh, she really meant something then? What was her name?"  
  
"His name was Charlie," Oliver ended, putting down his glass and giving Madam Hooch a coy smile.  
  
"Oh, yes." She looked slightly flustered, then, regaining herself, added, "Yes, I heard about that. Your liking to play on & both sides of the field." She smiled to herself slightly, admiring her own Quidditch allusion.  
  
Oliver took this opportunity to look around the hall. Many students were beaming at him and one seventh year girl in Ravenclaw winked. Ignoring this, he scanned the Gryffindor table for familiar faces, only recognising a few. Students that he had seen when they were only in their first, second and third years were now grown into quasi-mature fifth, sixth, and seventh years. His eyes eventually fell on Harry Potter and his friends. He gave a warm smile to the one person in the room he could come close to calling a friend. He knew he was here on professional grounds, but it was difficult trying to speak to people he instinctively called 'Miss' and 'Sir.' He needed companionship and his age was closer to that of Harry and his friends than the youngest teacher on staff. After dinner, Oliver stole a moment to go down to the Gryffindor table.  
  
"Oliver! Oliver! Over here!" He turned to see one of Harry's friends calling him, the bright red hair instantly giving away that it must be Percy's youngest brother. He made his way over to their end of the table and was greeted by the redhead with a strong brotherly pat on the back. The boy was grinning madly.  
  
"I don't think you remember me, but I'm Ron Weasley. I've been following your career from the very beginning, while you were still here. Remember, I was the one who got you to sign all my Quidditch gear before you left? They must be worth a fortune now, especially now that & you know."  
  
Ron trailed off as Harry cut in and smiled at Oliver.  
  
"It's good to see you again, Wood. It's been what, nearly a year since that horrible photo shoot for Teen Witch Weekly?" Harry and Oliver both started laughing at the memory of having to pose as Britain's two hottest celebrity wizards. A poll had been taken and the entire reading audience of the magazine could not decide between the two. Afterwards, the teen market had decided to leave these two 'good boys' alone and focus on the charming, and _many _sordid, exploits of Draco Malfoy.  
  
"How have you been, Oliver?" Harry continued, and then realised Hermione was looking very out of place. "Oh sorry, do you remember Hermione Granger?"  
  
Hermione smiled politely. Oliver may have been good looking, but she had never really had a large interest in Quidditch, unless Harry or Ron was playing.  
  
"Yes, I think I do. You went out with Jeremy Cohen, didn't you? I remember how many games he lost focus looking for you in the crowd." Oliver smiled as Hermione blushed and Ron bristled.  
  
"Well, I'm with Ron now," was her only reply as she noticed Ron's face.  
  
"That's great," smiled Oliver and looked back at Harry. "You're obviously going to try out, aren't you Harry?"  
  
Harry smiled and was about to reply when he was cut off by a drawling voice.  
  
"I'm sure Potter will try as hard as he can, but we all know who the best seeker here is." Malfoy had strolled up behind them and was now facing Oliver, who was taken back by this once boy turned man. His breath caught for a second at the obvious lean strength Malfoy possessed.  
  
"Just shut up, Malfoy," Harry said tiredly.  
  
"Make me, Potter," Malfoy said, turning back to Harry, now with a different glint in his eye. Harry looked at him wearily.  
  
"I made you shut up nicely that night after our fifth year final dance. Do you remember that, Malfoy? You were begging to have me & _shut you up_," Harry ended with a strange maliciousness emanating from his entire frame.  
  
Malfoy glared at him but said nothing. With a last fleeting glance at Oliver, who would swear that Malfoy's eyes were smoldering, he strode away without any sense of hurt pride.  
  
"What was that about?" Oliver looked back at the trio. Ron looked slightly disgusted, Hermione a little embarrassed and Harry was looking at Malfoy's receding figure, still seething but with another feeling in his manner.  
  
"It was nothing," Harry said, turning around and smiling at Oliver.  
  
At this point Dumbledore motioned for Oliver to come back so that he could show him to his quarters. Oliver was led into a beautifully arranged room which had much of the atmosphere of his old Gryffindor common room.  
  
"I hope you will be most comfortable here," Dumbledore said with a smile. "If there's anything you need, just visit my office."  
  
After Dumbledore left, Oliver sighed and flopped onto the bed. He closed his eyes and thought about the strange encounter at dinner. Malfoy had grown quite a bit and obviously there was much changed in his relationship with Harry. He thought of the amount of tryouts and training the year had in store for him, and the eventual team. By the sound of the students, he would likely get a large number flaunting any type of flying skill they had. This would make for quite a 'fascinating' few months.

*~*~*~*


	2. Chapter 2

**_*~*~*~*_**

**Title: **In All His Quidditch Glory  
**Author: **Rice (OrderofRice here, IDroppedARice on FA)  
**Pairing: **Eventual Oliver/Draco  
**Summary: **Oliver Wood, after suffering an unfixable injury that ends his International Quidditch career, returns to Hogwarts to help out in Dumbledore's plan - an inter-school Quidditch Championship. While carrying out his task of coaching an across-Hogwarts team and facing his demons, what's better help than a little romance? Set in Harry's seventh year. Slash.  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
**Notes: **Many thanks to my Beta Gin for convincing me to continue this story, oh so long ago! You can find her fanfiction.net profile under **Adele**. Thank you to everyone reading and enjoying. 

***~*~*~***

**__**

**_In All His Quidditch Glory_**

******_Chapter: 2_**

******_ Rice_**  
  
  


Browning autumn leaves swirled around Oliver's feet as he walked along the grounds of Hogwarts. The stone walls gave off an unusual warmth, echoing the voices of the hundreds of students within. He hadn't realised how much he really did miss being at Hogwarts; Quidditch had been so preoccupying he hadn't taken any time to just soak in the comfort and beauty that continually surrounded him. However, he was here for a reason. He had a job to do, something to. . . fill in the time.

Tryouts didn't begin till later on that afternoon, so Oliver decided to get a feel for the field again. He put on the new Quidditch uniform Dumbledore had made for the team. The inside jumpers were black with gold lining, etched with flecks of blue, and the padding was all black with silver stitching. The cloak however, as it was the most examined piece of the uniform, was enchanted so the tinges changed to show the various house colours depending on the angle of the sun. Though to avoid confusion, the cloak was also predominately black if in full sunlight or in darkness and was always remembered so. Oliver picked up the cloak and ran his finger across the outline of the Hogwarts crest. He had never worn a Quidditch uniform combining four different sides to create a unified team. As he put it on, he felt for the first time, not an ex-Gryffindor who attended Hogwarts, but an ex-Hogwarts student who just happened to be placed in Gryffindor.

He walked over to the broomsticks and placed his hand on the one labeled 'COACH.' It was a sleek jet-black colour to match the uniforms. Oliver began to wonder at this choice, as the team would look more like flying phantoms than portraying the image of the true light-hearted nature of the school. Dumbledore could have gone for a Phoenix style instead of this stealthy and dark look for the team. Oliver picked up the broom and was surprised at its lightness—even his international side didn't have such light but obviously strong brooms. The funding for this must be much stronger than he had first thought.

Taking the broom, he headed out onto the field. The empty stadium surrounded his solitary figure rising into the air. He felt a strange rush of nostalgia as he circled the field, not only for his captaining days at school, but for his short lived chance to play internationally. He had never wanted anything else. Joining Puddlemere was the greatest opportunity he had ever been given and now there was no returning. He had an injury beyond repair, and it hurt him to even think about it. Shaking his mind out of the past, he headed towards the familiar hoops at the end of the field. School fields were twenty meters shorter than international fields and the hoops were larger and placed slightly closer together.

He did a few circles of the hoops, swerving sharply as if defending them from unseen threats, though he noticed his movements were not as sharp as they had been, just less than a year ago. He became so enveloped in his simple world of lone flying that he didn't notice he was being watched by another boy on a broom hovering just out of the way. Oliver stopped suddenly as he started to feel the other's presence. He turned to see Draco Malfoy, decked out in his green Slytherin Quidditch robes, just tight enough to show off his well-toned body, an obvious product of hours upon hours of practice in the air.

"You really are an excellent flyer," Draco said with a respectful almost-smile on his face. Oliver was completely taken back by this display of such an open compliment from someone he only had negative memories about, and as a result was instantly wary.

"You're here for the Seeker tryouts I presume?" Oliver said, regaining himself.

"Presumption is such a crude form of judgment, but yes, I am here for Seeker," Draco ended, with his usual malicious smirk on his face. All evidence of his prior compliment was so thoroughly removed that Oliver began to doubt he had said anything at all.

"So where's Harry?" Oliver said, starting to circle back down to get practice gear and wait for Harry and any other students who would want to take their chances against these two.  
  
"Do you think I keep tabs on that waste of space?" Draco sneered, then, as he landed next to Oliver, added, "He has no sense of punctuality."  
  
Oliver gave Draco a quizzical look at this, but at that moment Harry came walking up in his scarlet Quidditch robes and apologised for being late.  
  
Before Draco could make any comment, Oliver cut in, "Is anyone else coming?"  
  
He looked up at the stands and realised half the stadium was filled. Groups of people from every house were in their place, eager to watch Harry and Malfoy battle it out for Seeker. Though almost all knew Harry was by far the most talented for this position than any other in Hogwarts' history, they knew Malfoy and Potter would give them an excellent show. No one else, even the Seekers for the other houses, wanted to try and compete for best against these two.  
  
Oliver went round and brought out the separate training kit. Each piece of equipment, besides the brooms, was enchanted differently for practice than the equipment for the game. There would be no point to watch a Seeker spend hours looking for a Snitch rather than showing their real flying and agility skills over a shorter period of time. He took out the Snitch, glinting gold in the sunlight, its wings fluttering slightly in the palm of his hand.  
  
"Okay, did you want to get a feel for the field first?" Oliver asked, turning around.  
  
Harry nodded and rose into the air, Draco following close behind. They did a quick lap of the field and met in the middle, hovering close to each other. Draco sneered.  
  
"Don't you ever get sick of doing that?" Harry asked, looking genuinely curious. "Does your face hurt at the end of the day?"  
  
"Does that scar still throb when you think about your dead parents?" Draco's sneer seemed to increase.  
  
Harry's eyes narrowed. "You're going to pay for all you've said and done one day, Malfoy. I don't believe for an instant that you've changed," He ended with a sneer of his own.  
  
Draco opened his mouth to answer, but was again cut off by Oliver who flew up next to them. "Ready?"  
  
As Harry and Draco both nodded, Oliver released the Snitch in between them. The small golden ball did a circle around Harry and then his opponent. It was enchanted to come into view at least once every five minutes. This way, quick flying skills and the ability to have an eye for such a small object came to the surface.  
  
The Snitch hovered in between the two before doing a sharp dive. Oliver positioned himself in the referee's area and watched Harry and Draco. Both boys were extremely skilled flyers and their bodies were obviously fit. Harry was slightly smaller than Draco, which gave him the extra advantage when it came to turning, and he was lighter on the broom. The moves the two boys pulled were almost on par with some of Oliver's old professional teammates and it was clear both of them had the potential to continue playing as a career.  
  
Oliver watched them exercise their skill for just under an hour until the final dive for the Snitch. The concentration of both players was immense; beads of sweat rolled down their faces but their pleasure in this display was clearly evident. They were going at such a fast pace their cloaks were rippling out behind them, two streams of green and red occasionally snapping when they touched. Draco gained a slight lead on Harry, for the first time in the session. He extended his hand, aligning his body with his broom. His fingers could almost touch the Snitch until it veered sharply to the left. Harry turned quickly but this sudden movement by him at such high speeds and close proximity caused Draco to momentarily lose his balance as the air shifted around him. Draco pulled up and to his left only to notice the pole of one of the hoops staring him in the face. Oliver started at this sight but Draco's quick reflexes allowed him to dodge the obstruction. He looked for Harry and saw him hovering a few meters away, having caught the Snitch.  
  
They flew back down, meeting Oliver on the ground level.  
  
"You really had the crowd on the edge of their seats," Oliver said, grinning. "That was a great display."  
  
Harry and Draco could only breathe heavily in reply.  
  
Oliver continued, "You're both excellent and extremely talented. I'd love to have you both on the team, but unfortunately, only one of you can be Seeker. Why don't you two get yourselves calmed and refreshed before we discuss anything further and give me a moment to collect my thoughts."  
  
Harry and Draco both trudged off, the latter mentally berating himself for not succeeding. Oliver stood back and watched the two figures head towards the change rooms. He knew what his decision was; it was obvious from the beginning whom the Seeker position was best suited for. He thought, however, of the other's skill—his flying ability would be hard to match. There was something in Malfoy's style that caught his attention. His agile but built frame and his last display of good dodging skills of an object so close gave the impression Malfoy was best suited for perhaps a different position.  
  
The two competitors returned, back in their usual school gear, Ron and Hermione walking up just behind Harry. Oliver swallowed and tried to believe telling people who could and couldn't be on the team was the worst aspect of being a captain or a coach but… he really did enjoy it. However, in this situation, he thought differently.  
  
"Alright, I'm just going to come right out and say it. Harry, you're definitely Seeker. But Malfoy, I'd like to speak to you," Oliver said quickly.  
  
Harry smirked at Draco and turned to look at Ron's beaming face.  
  
"You just got chosen by Wood, Harry. By _Wood_. He thinks you're good." Again Ron couldn't stop grinning.  
  
"He won't let it go, but at least now he's rhyming," Hermione said, looking pitifully at Ron.  
  
"It's okay Ron; remember Wood used to be our old captain? You've seen him play before," Harry tried calming his friend down.  
  
Draco hadn't turned away from Oliver. "What did you want to tell me?" He said coldly.  
  
"Malfoy, you'd be an asset to the team. It's just unfortunate that you're so hell-bent on being Seeker. I'd be hard pressed to find many other players with your skill and you know it by the look on your face." Oliver paused for a second. "Have you ever thought of being a Chaser?"  
  
Draco furrowed his eyebrows for a second, then quickly regained himself. He had never considered being a different position. Seeker was the most prestigious position and a great opportunity to oppose Harry, but considering these new circumstances and the fact that his father would not be overly pleased that his son had not made the team, Draco took up the idea.  
  
"I'll have to give it some thought," Draco said slowly, while thinking, _'Would it better to be on the team but in a lower position or not be on the team at all?'_  
  
"You know, there's nothing that says a Seeker is more important than another player. You can't have a game of Quidditch without each and every one," said Oliver, able to read the look on Draco's face. He was puzzled by Draco's surprise at his perceptive comment.  
  
"Okay, do I have to try out again?" Malfoy said, regaining an air of disdain for his situation.  
  
"No, no. You've proven yourself, Draco. Besides, that just makes my job easier; only two other people to choose to fill the Chaser positions," Oliver smiled. He was determined to play 'happy team,' as it made life so much easier.  
  
"Look, _Wood_. Don't think you're doing me a favour. This would be entirely my choice," Draco said, emphasising Oliver's last name. He had never understood why a person's name was such a big deal to him; only his mother and father really called him Draco.  
  
"That's fine, Draco, but perhaps you'd like to practice some offensive skills before our first practice session. I could help you, as I'm sure you don't want to make a fool of yourself in front of everyone if you can't play properly with the Quaffle." Oliver still retained that smile, enjoying Draco's look of disgust.  
  
There was something about Oliver however that didn't make Draco feel he was swallowing his pride if he agreed, but rather showing character. He couldn't bring himself to say he might need help but simply nodded.  
  
"I'll see if I can fit some practice with you into my schedule, Wood," Draco ended and he started to walk away.  
  
Oliver stood on the Quidditch field and watched Draco's receding figure. His sleek blonde hair reflected the gold of the setting sky and his body, trained with years of etiquette lessons, moved gracefully away. Oliver almost smacked himself in the head for thinking of Draco so cliché. He smiled however at the thought of private lessons with that gracefully toned body.  
  
Draco, heading towards the main buildings, tried hard to suppress a smile that began to creep up when he thought back on Oliver's praising comments.


	3. Chapter 3

**_*~*~*~*_**

**Title: **In All His Quidditch Glory****   
**Author: **Rice (OrderofRice here, IDroppedARice on FA)  
**Pairing: **Eventual Oliver/Draco  
**Summary: **Oliver Wood, after suffering an unfixable injury that ends his International Quidditch career, returns to Hogwarts to help out in Dumbledore's plan - an inter-school Quidditch Championship. While carrying out his task of coaching an across-Hogwarts team and facing his demons, what's better help than a little romance? Set in Harry's seventh year. Slash.  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
**Notes: **Many thanks to my Beta Gin for convincing me to continue this story, oh so long ago! You can find her fanfiction.net profile under **Adele**. Thank you to everyone reading and enjoying. 

***~*~*~***

**__**

**_In All His Quidditch Glory_**

******_Chapter: 3_**

******_ Rice_**  
  
  


Harry and Ron came down from their dorm to meet Hermione before they went down to breakfast. They stepped off the bottom step and were greeted by the backs of practically the entire Gryffindor house. It seemed they were trying to make their way to read a piece of parchment on the notice board.

"Wow, I didn't think _he'd _make the team," came the voice of someone near the front of the huddle.

Ron and Harry looked at each other, simultaneously thinking, '_The list of the final team!'_

Ron practically barged his way to the front and read allowed to Harry the people posted there.

**_

Hogwarts Quidditch Team:

_**

**_Final List_**

**_Chasers:_**_ Stewart Ackerley (4th Year Ravenclaw)_

_Draco Malfoy (7th Year Slytherin)_

_Rose Zeller (3rd Year Hufflepuff)_

****

**_Beaters: _**_Kare Benscik (6th Year Slytherin)_

_Graeme Hanratty (5th Year Hufflepuff)_

****

**_Keeper: _**_Ginny Weasely (6th year Gryffindor)_

****

**_Seeker: _**_Harry Potter (7th Year Gryffindor)_

**_Reserve list will be posted in the next few days. Practice times will be announced during breakfast._**

**_Congratulations._**

"I didn't make the team." Ron had struggled his way out of the crowd and was standing with Harry near the exit to the common room. He looked at Harry disbelievingly. "Ginny made it, but I didn't. Merlin, Harry, even Malfoy made Chaser!"

Harry looked at Ron sympathetically but only nodded in reply, he knew Malfoy would do anything to be on the team. This news didn't surprise him. 

Hermione had finally battled her way through the crowd as well, not nearly as interested in the commotion, just wanting to get out. The three headed out and down to breakfast, Ron trailing a bit behind Harry and Hermione, still in a state of shock. They entered the Great Hall and were met by an overly excited Ginny.

"Congratulations, Ginny," Harry said with a smile.

"Congratulations to you too, Harry." She beamed and hugged Harry then her brother.

"Yeah, Ginny, congratulations." Ron didn't sound nearly as excited as he should have about his sister's success.

Ginny gave Ron a concerned look. "I'm sorry you didn't make the team. I'm sure you'll at least be a reserve."

"Reserve?! I just missed the chance to play properly on a Hogwarts side! Reserve! Who wants that?" Ron began to colour red in the face. It seemed the shock was wearing off. "I can't believe they chose a girl instead!"

Hermione bristled. "Well, you don't deserve much if you're going to act like that." 

Harry just sighed and scanned the room for signs of Oliver. Seeing only the faces of teachers and a myriad of students he gave up and sat down to breakfast.

* * *

Oliver was sitting in the empty stands surrounding the field, gazing at nothing in particular. He had endured two straight weeks of watching students try out for each position. Twenty people had showed up for Chaser and he had kept pages of mental notes as well as a few scribbles on paper to help him make the final decisions. The easiest position to fill was surprisingly the Beaters; only five had shown up but it was obvious which two had the strength and agility needed to fill the spot. He purposely, however, saved his pride and joy until last. Keeper tryouts were the most riveting for Oliver. Though, only one student caught his attention and held him in place for her entire session. Her moves were on par with his when he used to be on the Gryffindor side—hell, some were up to his standard now. The other hopefuls were practically ignored by him after Ginny Weasley had had her run through.

His eyes focused back onto the now-empty field. He was to meet Draco for their Chaser practice session in just less than an hour. The silence of the field was immense in Oliver's mind. It was one thing to admire the players on a field, but he always felt he needed his lone time, just him and the unbroken stillness of the huge field.

A slight breeze was blowing, rippling his robes as he stood up to make his way down to the bottom of the field. He took one last look towards the field and noticed the figure of Draco Malfoy rising into the air. It seemed he was early and hadn't noticed Oliver sitting in the stands. Oliver sat back down for a moment, watching Draco do a lap of the field in the air. He was clad in the official uniform. Oliver frowned at that. He hadn't given anyone permission to wear those robes just yet. He noticed the cloak of the robe blow out into the wind, Draco's platinum blond hair contrasting strongly with the deep black of the uniform. Oliver could possibly forgive him just this once. Shaking out of his reverie, Oliver headed down onto the field to retrieve his broom and Quaffle.

Draco noticed Oliver moving across the field and flew back down, hovering just above the ground near Oliver's gear.

Oliver gave a small nod and half smile before proceeding, "What are you doing wearing that uniform?"

"Well, it is mine, isn't it? It was hanging in my locker," Draco said, looking slightly offended.

"In a completely _different_ locker than your usual one that you don't have the combination for yet. You magicked your way into it." Oliver folded his arms across his chest. "How about you go and de-robe."

"De-robe?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "Then what, pray tell?"

"Don't play with me, Malfoy, get back into your usual practice gear," Oliver said quickly, trying to cover up his obvious slip of the tongue.

Draco's eyebrow dropped back into its usual place. Raising his chin a little he turned back towards the change rooms. Oliver's cheeks tinged a little and he tried hard not to think about Draco 'de-robing'.

Instead, he rose up into the air, Quaffle in hand, ready to begin the training session. It wasn't long before Draco re-emerged in his usual Slytherin uniform. Dumbledore hadn't finalised everything about the team yet so he had specifically told Oliver to not let the students begin flaunting the new Quidditch gear.

Draco flew up in front of Oliver. "So, are we ready?"

"Well that all depends on you Draco," Oliver said with a small smirk. "Now, we'll just begin with a few practice catches. A good Chaser has the fundamental skills of catching, dodging and passing down pat. _After _that comes getting the Quaffle through the hoops."

Oliver had Draco flying around the field, getting used to catching and swerving swiftly to get in line with the Quaffle. It was amusing for Oliver to watch Draco getting into a sweat, throwing himself around to get hold of a ball. At one point, when Draco narrowly missed the Quaffle and had to go into a steep sideways dive for it, Oliver began laughing.

"What?" Draco said, panting and red in the face.

"Nothing, I just like determination in my players," Oliver replied with a grin. Not mentioning that he thought Draco looked unbearably attractive with his hair matted down around his face because of his sweat.

Draco just shook his head and then did something he wasn't quite used to. He smiled warmly at Oliver. He _was _having a good time with him and he couldn't help but break into a smile.

"Well, I like a coach who knows talent when he sees it."

Draco flew in close to Oliver to pass back the Quaffle. Their fingers touched slightly and Oliver could feel the heat of Draco's body, his breath falling heavily. They hovered close for a second before Oliver grabbed the Quaffle and then moved away, flying back down to the ground. Draco waited a moment and then descended, following Oliver.

"I think that's enough for one lesson," Oliver said firmly, looking just beyond a very calm Draco. "You're a quick learner. We can practice your dodging skills when we have a proper team training session. Until then I think you're set."

Draco nodded slowly. He only hesitated for a second before he walked over to the change rooms to shower and get back into his school robes.

Oliver began packing up the Quidditch gear. Mentally lecturing himself about not letting emotions get in the way of a training session. He knew his place – a coach, a confidant, a person of responsibility – he also knew Draco was probably not thinking along the same lines as his mind was running on.

He finished packing up the Quidditch gear but continued to loiter on the field. In two weeks he hadn't had very much conversation and any that he did have was Quidditch related. While he loved the game more than anything there were times when he just wanted to speak with someone. Not captain to player, not coach to teacher, just simple one friend to another.

Draco came out of the change rooms and came back up to Oliver to get his broom. He didn't make any eye contact as he picked up his broom and started to turn.

"Draco –" Oliver began, pausing as Draco's head darted back quickly to face him when he heard his name being said. "Could I speak with you?"

Draco gave Oliver a fairly questioning look. "What is it?"

"Well, how about we walk for a while?" Oliver took Draco's broom and placed it down next to his. He then motioned for Draco to walk a few paces with him.

Draco, slightly unsure, began following out of curiosity.

Oliver laughed. "I'm not going to bite. I just haven't had a conversation with anyone since I got here."

"What about Potter?" Draco said.

"Harry's not the best for conversation sometimes. He's always brooding over something," Oliver explained.

Draco nodded knowingly. "Never stops thinking about the past. I know."

This surprised Oliver. "What do you mean, _you know_? Since when have you kept up with Harry?"

Draco shrugged in answer and tried changing the topic. "So, what did you want to talk about? Surely not Potter?"

"No, no. But you're not getting away that easy. Explain yourself." Oliver hadn't made captain without being able to get others to do what he wanted.

"It's nothing seriously," Draco said looking slightly annoyed.

Oliver smirked. "I know you used to be a little obsessed with Harry, is that it?"

Draco looked at Oliver with extreme disdain. "What do you mean _obsessed with Harry_? I was never obsessed with anyone."

"Yes you were, I used to talk to Flint about how you'd talk to your broom about beating him," Oliver said. He almost broke into laughter, he'd been waiting years to mention that.

"Hey, look Wood. That only happened once. Flint doesn't know what he's talking about. No one knows," Draco said in slightly raised tones.

"What do you mean, _no one knows_? No one knows what?" Oliver's mind began to back track a little on their conversation. "No one knows about, you and Harry? What exactly about you and Harry?"

Draco shrugged again and looked towards the buildings, his body was tense.

"Wait a minute… you and Harry? Are you saying that _you_ and _Harry_…" Oliver trailed off and raised his eyebrows a little.

Draco sighed. _'Wood was just way too insightful for his own bloody good,' _he thought. '_Many would like to get their hands on this information.'_

"Ok, fine, Potter and I 'dated' last year. Is that what you want to hear?"

Oliver tried hard to suppress a grin. "Wow," he said, "that was unexpected."

"Look, it wasn't that big of a deal. We both needed… something… and we were both there to give it to each other exactly the way we wanted it. No one knew about it, except Potter's two-person fan club, and my Father." Draco ended, clearing his throat and looking a tad uneasy.

Oliver's mind went down a moderately guttery track at this point, getting fairly jumbled and finally producing, _'So Draco has a preference for men?'_

Draco looked at Oliver and continued quickly, "I'm not gay or anything. Just… needed something different for once."

Oliver only nodded. "So, how did it all end?"

"My Father," Draco said shortly.

Oliver was just about to ask more questions, but Draco cut in.

"Let's not dig up bad memories," he said, shaking his head.

Draco felt a little awkward as he walked next to Oliver. Civil conversations with Gryffindors or ex-Gryffindors were not common practice for him. They walked in silence for a while, rounding into the entrance to the main courtyard of Hogwarts. It was a Saturday, so students were milling around on the grass. They stood just out of view, in the alcove of one of the arched entrances.

Draco looked at Oliver and felt a slight pity for him. It must be hard to be only recognised for talent in a game than for personality. This got Draco thinking – 

"Well, you know about Potter. So who was it for you? The one that got away," he asked, wondering why he cared at all.

Oliver gave Draco a slanted smile. "Blue-green eyes, dirty blond hair, great in bed and an American muggle."

Draco laughed. Some second year Slytherins who were walking past gave him odd looks when they heard this. "I meant, what was her name?"

"Why do you presume it was a her?" Oliver asked slyly.

Draco's eyebrow rose up again in its usual fashion. "Very funny, Wood." He smirked.

Oliver was just about to continue when he heard a voice calling out from behind them. Harry was walking up, his usual company nowhere to be seen.

"Oliver! I've been looking everywhere for you," Harry began, stopping when he noticed Draco standing with him. "Oh, am I interrupting something?" His tone held exaggerated civility.

"Yes, Potter, you were," Draco said with contempt.

Oliver looked between the two boys, Draco, slightly taller, but Harry obviously stronger. They had such intense emotion in their stares. More than Oliver had ever seen between them back when he was in school. He made a point never to get on the bad side of either boy.

"Well," Oliver started, trying to break the tension, "what did you want Harry?"

Harry returned his gaze to Oliver. "Nothing too important." His eyes shifted back to Malfoy.

"How about we continue our discussion some other time, Draco?" Oliver said.

Draco tilted his head and nodded. "Sure. I was wondering if we could fit in another session though? To get me some… scoring practice," Draco said while he watched Wood nod slowly in reply. "I'll see you later… _Oliver_."

Oliver stared after Draco disbelievingly, '_Was that a hint?' _He couldn't think too hard about it though as Harry began speaking again. He cursed the boy.

*~*~*~*


	4. Chapter 4

**_*~*~*~*_**

**Title: **In All His Quidditch Glory****   
**Author: **Rice (OrderofRice here, IDroppedARice on FA)  
**Pairing: **Eventual Oliver/Draco  
**Summary: **Oliver Wood, after suffering an unfixable injury that ends his International Quidditch career, returns to Hogwarts to help out in Dumbledore's plan - an inter-school Quidditch Championship. While carrying out his task of coaching an across-Hogwarts team and facing his demons, what's better help than a little romance? Set in Harry's seventh year. Slash.  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
**Notes: **Many thanks to my Beta Gin for convincing me to continue this story, oh so long ago! You can find her fanfiction.net profile under **Adele**. Thank you to everyone reading and enjoying. 

***~*~*~***

**__**

**_In All His Quidditch Glory_**

******_Chapter: 4_**

******_ Rice_**  
  
  


Oliver groaned from under his pillow as a loud rapping on the door brought him out of a fairly… _interesting_ dream. He dragged himself out of the bed, scarlet sheets falling off his body. He pulled on a robe and opened the door to meet a house elf.

Oliver looked at her curiously. "Don't you just appear in rooms?"

"We do, yes sir. But master was having a dream. Mica didn't want to disturb you. Master was muttering and moaning something about Quaffles and broomsticks–" The house elf started to prattle on.

Oliver cut her off, clearing his throat, "Uh, right, thanks. What did you want?"

"A visitor is to see you, Master Wood. Master Dumbledore asks for you to present yourself in his office in half an hour, sir," said Mica, waiting for her leave.

Oliver frowned. Half an hour? Quidditch practice started in three hours and he still had to set up the gear, work out some finalities on his training strategies and test out the equipment, amongst other things. 

"Do you know who it is?" he asked Mica.

"No sir, he does not tell me. Only to tell you to be presentable. It is an important visitor. May Mica go now?" He nodded as the house elf Disapparated.

* * *

Walking the halls of Hogwarts, Oliver was surprised at how well he remembered everything. He made his way down to Dumbledore's office with no trouble at all. Getting to the large statue of the gargoyle, he tried hard to remember the password.

"Cherry pops," he muttered hopefully and the statue began to move.

As he walked into Dumbledore's office, he saw him standing with another man who had his back to the door. He was wearing a long, tailor-made black robe and had shoulder length blond hair.

"Ah, right on time, Mister Wood," Dumbledore said, looking over at him.

Oliver smiled in response and the mystery man turned to look at him. He recognised him from the newspapers and a few chance meetings: Lucius Malfoy. Oliver tried to cover up his initial shock at this.

"Hello, Mister Wood. It's a pleasure to see you again. I believe we met once, at a charity ball," Malfoy drawled, smiling smugly, Merlin knows why. He just always smiled like he knew something you didn't. Perhaps he did.

Oliver stiffened slightly. "Yes, I think we did. It's nice to meet you again also."

He felt very out of place. Not having any idea what was going on was not something he was used to.

"Would you two like to take a seat?" Dumbledore said, moving over to sit behind his desk.

"No," Malfoy said, almost kindly, "this won't take very long."

He turned to Wood. "How is the new team going?"

"We haven't had a practice yet; the first was scheduled for this morning, after this meeting," said Oliver.__

"I see that you've made my son Chaser. That was very… interesting news to me," Malfoy continued.

_Ah, that must be it, _thought Oliver. He said, however, "Yes, I did. He's a fine player and is excellent for that position."

"Hmm, yes, well, we'll get to that," Malfoy paused for a moment. He seemed to have a liking for drawing things out as long as he possibly could. Oliver felt himself wanting to get out of the room.

Malfoy turned again to Dumbledore. "Perhaps I will have a seat."

Oliver followed and sat down also.

"Would either of you care for a toffee?" Dumbledore asked them both, holding out a small decorated tin.

Malfoy curled his lip and turned his attention back to Oliver who was shaking his head politely at Dumbledore's offer.

"How do you like the uniforms, Mister Wood?" said Lucius, that smug smirk on his face again.

"Uh, the uniforms are… unique, to say the least. Not what I expected, but suitable," he said unsurely and looked at Dumbledore for any kind of explanation.

"And the brooms?" Malfoy continued.

Oliver tilted his head slightly. "The brooms are, in fact, excellent. Top of the range. The team hasn't tested them out yet, but I'm sure they'll be perfect." Oliver cleared his throat.

"Yes, yes, they are quite sophisticated," he smiled again when he noticed the look of clear confusion that Oliver now allowed on his face. He turned to Dumbledore. "Don't tell me you haven't told the boy?"

"Sorry?" Oliver asked, shifting in his chair.

Dumbledore pursed his lips a little but turned it into a smile as he looked at Oliver. "I'm sure you've noticed the standard of the equipment and the quality of the uniforms, Mr. Wood. I'm also sure you've considered the costs of undertaking such an enterprise for a school."

Oliver nodded.

"As you know, Hogwarts conducts many different activities around the school. Something of this magnitude requires… outside backing," Dumbledore paused and raised his eyebrows at Oliver, whose mind was quickly catching on. "Mr. Malfoy has been kind enough to provide the financial support that we need. In fact, he also had much to do with the planning and organisation of the future event."

Oliver finally understood. He knew such an enterprise was a little too much to ask from schools alone. He just hadn't realised where exactly this money would be coming from. _Well, that at least explains the uniforms, _he thought resignedly. _Financial backers always tend to step in on artistic choices as well. _However, this wasn't the best time for these thoughts.

"Now you understand my questioning, Mr. Wood?" Malfoy said. "I have a personal interest in this project."

Oliver smiled slightly, for the first time in the conversation he felt like he understood the playing field. He knew his ground.

Malfoy continued, "I was hoping to attend one of your training sessions. You said you had one today."

Oliver shifted in his seat again. "Well, yes, we do have one today. But it _is_ our first. I was hoping to get better acquainted with the team before I allowed outside visitors."

"I assure you, Mr. Wood, I am no _outside visitor. _I will be continually attending both training sessions and games. You will get used to it," Lucius said, looking very annoyed by Oliver's comment. It seemed he didn't ask to attend, he stated that he would. 

Dumbledore broke the silence that followed, "Well, Oliver, you'll probably be wanting to go set up the gear before the new team arrives. Perhaps you and I should speak a while, Mr. Malfoy, before you head out as well."

"How is my son at playing his new position?" Lucius said to Oliver, ignoring Dumbledore.

"As I said before, Draco's very talented at Quidditch. He's catching on quick," Oliver said tersely.

"I was surprised, to say the least, that he didn't put up much of an argument when you made this decision. Is he being difficult?" 

"He didn't really have much choice in the matter of being Seeker. I think it was a wise choice that he made."

"You didn't answer my question, Mr. Wood."

"No, Draco isn't being difficult at all. In fact he's been very keen on playing as a Chaser." Oliver was beginning to get sick of this. Malfoy had a knack for asking questions without revealing, at all, his intentions.

All he wanted to do was go out there and coach the team. He knew these matters would come up at some point, he just didn't realise how early on and with whom.

Malfoy smiled and stood up. "My apologies for keeping you so long, Mr. Wood."

Oliver gave Dumbledore one last look and stood up as well. Just as he was leaving the room he heard Malfoy say one last remark.

"Make sure you have a little re-think about Draco's position on the team. I wouldn't want to have to re-think _my _position on this entire matter. I doubt you would too, Mr. Wood. It would be a tragedy if the team was unable to continue in the event."

Oliver didn't turn around but Malfoy noticed Oliver's back straighten a little more as he opened the door and left.

* * *

Oliver cursed his way down to the Quidditch field. _The nerve of that man. They had him named as a Death Eater just two years before, for Merlin's sake!_ How all that got overturned Oliver didn't begin to try and understand. His career with Puddlemere was all that had really mattered. He wished now that he had paid more attention, but the effect that the outside world had on everyone else never seemed to matter when he was up in the sky. General newspapers weren't delivered to his home. This was something he'd have to discuss with Harry.

Reaching the field, he saw the team waiting for him, already having brought out the equipment. They were all dressed in their black uniforms. _Black_—Oliver now understood why.

"Lost some of that punctuality you held so dear, Wood?" Draco laughed a little and turned to Karé Benscik, the other Slytherin and Beater. She didn't look entirely impressed but managed a wry smile.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Oliver said, taking Draco aback. He turned to the rest of the team. "Okay, we've got a heavy schedule ahead of us. Eight weeks until Christmas break and then another four weeks until our first match held against Beauxbatons."

"You realise that's plenty of time?" Karé began. Harry cringed; he knew what happened when you questioned Oliver's time management.

"Plenty of time? If you don't want to take this seriously then I suggest you leave. Beauxbatons has very impressive students. I've seen them play. There's never enough time for Quidditch if you want things to be flawless," these comments were directed at Karé but now he looked at everyone, "and we want this to be _flawless_."

Oliver turned to pick up his broom that one of them had brought out. He looked at its sleek black handle in disdain. "Right, so let's get into the air and see how you all work together."

The training session lasted until the afternoon. Lucius had not turned up to watch in the end—well, at least not anywhere visible by Oliver, but he was still unusually hard on the team, especially for the first training session. He was still annoyed by his conversation earlier in the morning. He was, more specifically, snappish at Draco. At one point he snapped when Draco missed the Quaffle. It was clearly another player's fault, Ackerly to be exact, but Oliver didn't contain his annoyance. Draco was certainly not a happy player after that incident.

When they had finished, the team headed off to the change rooms. Draco stayed behind.

"I take it my father came to speak with you this morning?" Draco asked Oliver who was packing things up and trying to ignore Draco's loitering. 

He did, however, look up when he heard Draco's question. "Yes, he did." He raised an eyebrow. "Did you already know?"

Draco shook his head. "Well, I knew about his being in control. I hadn't known about the meeting. I just knew it was bound to happen and you look like someone who has encountered him recently."

"Wait, _his being in control_? What do you mean by that? Just because your father is the money for this doesn't mean he's in control," Oliver said harshly.

"Watch what you say, Wood." Draco had wanted to smooth things over, but it clearly wasn't working out that way.

Oliver scoffed at this. "I don't think I need you to tell me what to say and not, Malfoy."

"So now it's Malfoy is it? You have one disagreeable conversation _with my father _and you decide to behave like this?" Draco's sneer appeared again.

"I don't need to answer to you, _Draco. _You know your place. I make the decisions for the team. I'm the one in control of what goes on here."

"Right, whatever you want to believe, Wood. You make as many decisions as you like, we'll see what happens." Draco's sneer increased and he gave Oliver one last look over before turning around and leaving.

Oliver grabbed the Quidditch gear and head off to the Quidditch shed. Lugging these back calmed him down a bit and he began to regret his comments to Draco. _It's not his fault after all, _he thought to himself. He also realised how difficult he had now made things for his control over the team. Draco would certainly not be impressed with his attitude and the rest of the team would probably avoid him in the halls.

He sighed and put away the gear on the right shelves. _That's just the way the life of a coach is_, he figured. Not to mention he had pushed Draco away from any sort of trust that they may have been developing in each other. It wasn't until now that he really felt like he only had the vestiges left of what could have been a decent friendship, to say the least.

*~*~*~*


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes: **Sorry for the delay. My beta has somewhat disappeared on me. As such, this chapter is un-beta'd, but I felt bad about it just sitting on my computer. Apologies for the formatting.

* * *

**_In All His Quidditch Glory_**

**__**

**_Chapter 5_**

**__**

**_Rice_**

The soon to be luggage was laid out neatly on Draco's bed. Quidditch clothing next to the case, two Hogwarts uniforms folded one on the other, toiletries resting on top of a very small pile of casual and dressy clothing. He took out his wand and _Wingardium Leviosa_'d his items one by one, in an ordered arrangement.

"Very good Draco," a voice echoed from behind him. Recognising it, Draco straightened his back.

The voice continued matter of fact, "You've never wanted House Elves to do this work."

"They never place things in the right place." Draco turned to face his father. Looking at his subtly expectant face he added, "A Malfoy should never trust any other creature with his private belongings."

The curves of Lucius's lips curled upwards a little. Draco internally rolled his eyes but didn't show it on his face. Old habits, old sayings, old customs, there was always a lesson to be learnt around his father.

"I hadn't known you would be coming here first," Draco said.

"I just thought I'd pay you a visit before you left." Lucius came into the room to stand in front of his son. "You do remember what we talked about, don't you Draco?"

He watched as his son nodded. "Good. Everything will be set up once you get there."

Draco was slightly confused. "Aren't you coming?"

"I will be," Lucius replied slowly, surveying Draco's section of the room. He had seen it many times before and Draco hadn't changed it very much. Yet, he always eyed his son's belongings; searching for some kind of twisted truth, Draco suspected. "I'll be attending your first match, but I will be unavoidably detained before then."

Draco nodded. He understood what that meant. Apparently a year in Azkaban had hardened his father instead of breaking him. He was reminded of it every time he looked in the mirror and at those features that he couldn't call only his own.

He waited until his father turned on his heel and left, though not before doing one more sweep of the room with his eyes. Almost as if he suspected Draco was hiding Harry Potter in there somewhere. _How ironic_, Draco snorted.

Harry stood in front of the mirror and stared at his reflection. He was slightly nervous by the fact that they were to play their first match in Beauxbaton in just three days. Oliver had been pounding this into them for weeks now, through their rigorous training. Professor McGonagall had to step in at one point and take the seventh years out of practice as they were missing too many classes.

It wasn't so bad, Harry felt, except for the days that Lucius Malfoy came to watch them practice. Harry hated the sight of him. The audacity to look into his face when those same eyes had stared at him through the slits of a Death Eater's mask.

He hadn't been so surprised though, when they released him from Azkaban after only a year. With everyone in fear of Voldemort's return they had been on high alert, expecting an attack again in Harry's sixth year. When it hadn't happened people began to suspect that Harry was simply trying to put himself in the spotlight again. They forgot about the significance of the happenings at the Ministry quickly and appeals from the other pureblood families came up to free Lucius Malfoy as they could find no more reason for his being locked up, he had obviously just been a victim in Harry Potter's cry for more fame. No one truly believed this though, as Harry himself was never called into question.

He sighed resignedly before picking up his comb and other items and stuffing them into a small traveling bag. He turned and dropped it unceremoniously into the open suitcase on his bed. He looked at the clothes strewn over the sides of it.

Ron was sitting near the window looking out, obviously not thinking about what he was seeing. Harry began to try and say something to him but hesitated. The idea of being a reserve and not in the final team cut was making Ron somewhat depressed yet again now that they were finally about to leave for Beauxbaton in the morning. He was about to return to packing when he heard a knock on the door.

He opened it to see Oliver, dressed like a professor, in his black robes. He smiled at Harry and came into the room.

"I was hoping we'd be able to go over the final strategies before dinner," Oliver said as Harry stared, taken aback a little.

Harry had been made Captain of the team, as most expected since he was the most experienced, and so Oliver had been practically hounding him with new moves and strategies for the team to implement.

"Uh – yeah, of course," Harry said as Oliver surveyed the room.

"Haven't finished packing yet?" he asked, staring at the mess with strong distaste evident in his face. "Have you always been this disorganised?"

Oliver turned to face Harry who nodded.

"This is going to take you the rest of the night." Oliver tsked. "I'll talk to you in morning then, on the train. We can't afford things like this."

Harry nodded again looking slightly embarrassed. Oliver took one more look at the room and added, "Order, Potter… and discipline."

Harry sighed as he closed the door behind him and Ron laughed, mocking Oliver. He shook himself out of it and realised he didn't feel like finishing packing just yet.

"I think I'm going to go down and uh, see Karé before we go to dinner," said Harry, trying to be as casual as possible. "You know, just to see how she's going with her – uh - "

"Packing?" Ron supplied.

Harry almost blushed. "Yeah."

His friend grinned knowingly.

"Besides, I have to put that knowledge of secret entrances into their common room to good use." Harry now joked.

Ron groaned. "I think you've put them to enough use in the past, Harry."

"You know I have a thing for Slytherins." Harry winked as he left the room.

"Only one of them," Ron said under his breath and grimaced after Harry had left.

The staircase shuddered as it began to disconnect from the level it was attached to and moved down a few. _At least I won't be early to the Great Hall,_ Oliver thought as he leaned against the banister and waited for the stairs to stop moving, which seemed to take forever.

He walked through the corridors, noticing the large number of Slytherin students using this passage to get to the Great Hall for dinner. He saw Draco emerge out from behind a painting that he knew was not the entrance to the Slytherin dungeon. He didn't ask, however, as Draco hadn't noticed that he had seen him.

"Draco," he called out, catching up to the boy as he stopped and turned. "Just the person I wanted to see."

"And why is that?" Draco said, looking as if he had somewhere better to be.

"Well, I haven't had a chance to talk to you before with the amount of training that we've been doing, but as we're leaving tomorrow…" Oliver stopped.

"What's your point, Wood?" Draco had been acting this way for weeks, ever since that argument about his father. Although, Oliver hadn't exactly tried to make any friendly advances, he was too preoccupied with the team. Surprisingly enough, after that incident Lucius Malfoy had stopped threatening to cut off funding. He had a strong suspicion that Dumbledore had a lot to do with it but he didn't want to get mixed up in that business.

"It's about your attitude," Oliver said bluntly.

Draco looked at Oliver as if he was an insect. "What about my attitude?"

Oliver smiled to himself, he could tell Draco was just putting up a show; he had dealt with worse players in his time.

"You're a great player, you know that and it shows when you're in the air. The only thing that's holding the team back from being absolutely perfect is that you refuse to play fair with Potter and Ginny Weasely," Oliver said authoritatively.

Draco snorted. "I can't help it if Potter and Weasley can't watch where they're going."

"Draco, you can't be that daft," Oliver said.

Draco shook his head and looked away. Oliver could see the slight lines of amusement on his face. He hadn't lost his touch just yet.

"Just keep that in mind." Oliver ended the conversation. "Going to the Great Hall?"

The next morning, the team was ready to go, bags at their feet, waiting outside the main gate. Hermione was hugging Ron as they, and Ginny stood outside one of the carriages that would take them to the train.

"I wish I could go and see you play the first match," she said, moving to say goodbye to Ginny. "And don't forget that you still have to do the work that the professors have set you. You don't want to come back and be behind the rest of the class."

She stopped speaking momentarily as she realised something and looked around. "Where's Harry?"

Ron pointed over to one of the carriages. Harry was talking to a Slytherin girl whom Hermione recognised as Karé Benscik, a sixth year Slytherin on the team. She stared back at Ron open mouthed while he nodded and pursed his lips.

"Honestly," said Hermione. "Does Harry even realise what he's doing?"

Ginny just shrugged and hugged Hermione.

"Leave it," she said, "he'll get over the whole thing soon enough."

"I don't know," Ron said, drawing their attention back to the carriage where Harry was.

Draco had walked up to Harry and Karé and it was obvious that the usual exchange of tense words was taking place. It continued until Harry realised that Karé had left half way through. Harry began trudging back to his friends, ignoring Draco now that he had no reason to be there anymore.

Oliver, who just came outside with Dumbledore, had noticed the short argument between Draco and Harry. He only sighed and hoped that his words with Draco the night before had sunk in properly. He didn't hold out much hope for it.

Everyone said their last goodbyes and began getting into the carriages.

"Have a safe journey, Mr. Wood," Dumbledore said to Oliver finally.

Dumbledore had already told him and the team that he would be there to attend the first match and would apparate there. The rest of the team would be journeying through the underground and underwater train system that linked the Hogwarts Express to the other schools and places in Europe.

"See you soon, Professor." Oliver nodded and carried his luggage into Harry's carriage to discuss those strategies on the way to the train.

The platform for the Hogwarts Express looked scarily empty as the team unloaded from the carriages and began to board the train. Draco walked with Karé and they took a compartment for themselves, even though Draco could tell she wanted to leave and talk to the other team members. He inwardly rolled his eyes and announced he was going to the bathroom, allowing her the opportunity to leave after he walked out without feeling uncomfortable.

He walked down the passage between the compartments and noticed Oliver in one with the door still open. He was lifting his suitcase onto the rack above the seats. Draco stopped when he saw the obvious strain on Oliver's face as he heaved it upwards and tried to push it so that it would fit; it fell.

"Bugger," Oliver cursed and rolled his shoulders, an arm coming up to slightly massage his right shoulder.

He turned around, still rolling his shoulders slightly and noticed Draco staring at him in slight shock.

"Uh – sorry," Draco said quickly and began to turn around.

Oliver stopped him. "No, no, it's ok. Just... could you give me a hand?"

Draco turned back and nodded.

He came into the compartment and picked up the fallen suitcase, it was heavy. "What have you got in this thing?"

"Nothing really," Oliver replied noncommittally.

Draco pushed it into place and faced Oliver. "Is your shoulder ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, nothing to worry about." He tried to shrug it off and Draco could still see that Oliver still winced slightly when he went to sit down.

Draco sat down opposite him, he had nowhere else to go, he convinced himself. "How bad is it?"

Oliver sighed and looked out the window for a moment. "Enough to stop me from playing."

Draco nodded. "I heard about it all. The newspapers didn't let go of it for weeks. Heard it was your coach that did it."

"Nah. It was my own fault. I didn't tell him soon enough just how bad the strain was," Oliver said quickly.

"But I thought he made you practice despite that," Draco said, genuinely curious.

"Yeah, that's what _The Daily Prophet _said," Oliver replied, obviously not wanting to have this conversation. "It's not true. I just let it get worse and worse, eventually I couldn't throw the quaffle anymore." Oliver sighed again.

Draco didn't bother to ask if they had tried to heal it, he had learnt from an early age that the Muggle-like stupidity of not turning to magic from the outset caused incurable consequences.

"There was just too much damage done," Oliver said finally and looked at Draco again.

Oliver stood up and faced the window, rubbing his shoulder again.

"Do you want me to – " Draco began.

Oliver looked at him through his reflection on the glass and raised his eyebrow.

Draco stumbled slightly. "I just meant…" He stood up and walked over to stand next to Oliver. "Don't worry about it."

He stared at the face of the boy next to him as Oliver continued to gaze out of the window. He placed his hand on his arm, which Oliver didn't seem to notice. He trailed his arm upwards, causing Oliver to turn and face him. Draco leaned in closer and cupped his hand around Oliver's neck. Oliver seemed to raise a hand to push him away, but Draco only felt the palm rest on his chest. He noticed Oliver's eyes close as their lips came to being just centimeters apart.

Oliver's eyes flew open suddenly and he took a step back from Draco, regaining his senses.

"What are you doing?" Oliver asked unthinkingly.

Draco spluttered. "What do you mean 'what am I doing'? What are you doing?"

Oliver laughed incredulously. "This isn't happening, Draco. I'm – I mean, I'm your coach."

"I noticed," Draco said through his teeth.

They stood in the compartment for a moment longer before Oliver spoke again. "It's unethical."

Draco looked at him and tilted his head. He grinned. "Yes. It is."


End file.
